The Capitol Tribute
by RJkimasako
Summary: There are different ways to crush a rebellion. A symbolic victory is often better than a military one. And what better way to achieve a symbolic victory than for the capitol to submit their very own tribute? A beast. An animal. The key to quelling the uprising. A different 75th games. (T for graphic violence and slight romance.)
1. Chapter 1

"You're going to be afraid" Haymitch had said to me. "You'll understand when you see him. You really should brace yourself." I walk down the hallway to the door of his room. I'm not sure what to expect- why do I need to meet him? I put my hand on the doorknob, wondering why Haymitch had warned me about fear... The capitol practically has a fetish for genetic experimentation. Could he be some kind of beast- human hybrid? No. The concept seems too far fetched. I breath in, and push the door open a crack.

"Hello?" I ask. "I was sent to meet with you". Not getting any response, I step into the room. He sits there, looking at his feet. For some reason I can't decipher, I feel a spike of adrenaline rush through me. I'm afraid of him. But it's a different type of fear. In the arena, I was afraid for my life. With him... his _essence _terrifies me, and it is that unknown threat that causes my nervousness. He raises his head slowly. He has no eyebrows, and black makeup surrounds his eyes. He has brown skin, though I'm not sure what his race is. His messy black hair falls in front of his face, giving him an almost casual aura. But I can instinctively tell that he is anything but.

"Do you hear the drums?" He speaks in a shaky whisper that almost sounds joyful. I feel sweat trickling down my brow. The timbre of his voice is voice is raspy, like nails on steel.

"What?" I smile, hoping to appeal to the more human instinct side of him. He twitches, and my heart skips a beat. I see a sharp, twisted smile come over his face. It's a grin of absolute madness.

"Listen. Kat." I don't think I like the way he says my name. He raises a finger, and I begin to tense up in apprehension- was he going to act violently? No. I breathe a sigh of relief. He places the digit on his metal cot, and begins to tap steadily. He lowers his head again, and begins to speak in time to his tapping.

"_Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang." _He stops his quiet chant, momentarily.

"They get softer sometimes. Then louder. And louder. And louder." He says the last sentence as if he's trying to scream through his gritted teeth. I can see his muscles tighten. I decide to answer his previous question, hoping to stop the "drums" from increasing in volume.

"I can't say I hear any drums. You must have good ears." He doesn't respond. He keeps tapping, and whispering. I hope I didn't say something wrong. Why on earth is his presence alone affecting me so much?

"_Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang."_

I focus on his tapping finger, trying to distract myself from my unnecessary fear. I draw my gaze slowly up to his face, and I realize with horror that his eyes have turned a glowing bright red. He moves so fast and suddenly- His left hand is constricting my throat, his right is on my shirt, hoisting me against the cold, concrete wall. I look into his horrible eyes, trying to rasp out a please, or a stop, or something to make him cease the assault. I claw at his choking arm helplessly, tears streaming down my cheeks. Part of me is angry with myself for acting so pathetic, but fear and lack of oxygen overrides this feeling a hundred fold. I kick him in the stomach, and pain shoots through my foot. He isn't affected by the blow at all. I try again, and again he fails to respond. I try to breath in; he's too strong, I can feel some of my senses shutting down.

"Pl-ease-sto-" I whimper; I don't want to die this way. His crazed grin is tearing my mind to shreds. He tightens his grip, and I sob. With no warning, he lowers me to the floor and pulls me into an embrace, with a surprising amount of affection. He whispers into my ear.

"_Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang,Bang." _He stops his chant. I can't move. I'm petrified. He lowers his head, and then lifts it up again. His eyes are now a dark hazel. There is a businesslike expression on his face. He holds my shoulders at arm's length and says, in perfectly normal tones,

"I haven't had a visitor for quite some time. Thank you." He strides to his cot, picks up a piece of cloth, and walks calmly from the room. I collapse against the wall, breathing hard, my body shaking with sobs. My mind struggles to wrap itself around what has just transpired. What is he?

* * *

**Sup, guys, hope you're doing well. I started this because I always wanted someone in the arena that was just an absolute animal. Every tribute has limits, but I wanted someone that could push the bounds. Reviews are greatly appreciated, as I always attempt to revise my work.  
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	2. Chapter 2

I wake up feeling awful. With a groan, I realize why. That experience I'd had last night was still bothering me. I think I was over the fear. That's probably why Haymitch had told me to go see him in the first place. But what was bothering me was the shame I now carry. He reduced me to a sobbing mess with a single movement, and I always presented myself as strong. I'm upset because he made breaking me down look so simple. But still... his aura. I shudder just thinking about him. Maybe I'm not weak. Maybe he's just something much, much, stronger...

Haymitch told me to go see him again, specifically to "find some more human" in him. I tried my hardest to explain to him what had transpired last visit, but he didn't seem to grasp the full extent of it. Even when I told him about his attacking me, he insisted it was under control.

"Had you been in any real danger" he said lazily "we would have intervened". I walk down the hallway feeling nervous. Not as bad as before, but nervous, nonetheless. I wonder more about his background as my feet carry me toward the elevator that will take me to his chamber. I stop at the doorway and show the guard my identification. He glances at it briefly and nods. He reaches over to his side pocket and pulls out a small keypad, typing in a code hurriedly. As he puts the object back into his pocket, I notice how weak the man looks. He couldn't be more than 25, but he has a thousand mile stare and bags below his eyes like nothing I've ever seen. He gulps as the elevator behind the door begins to ascend from below us with a sleek hum. I break the silence.

"Why is his chamber so low?" I ask, wondering about the tightened security.

"To keep out the noise." the guard says shakily. I decide not to ask anymore. The elevator doors open after about ten seconds of awkward waiting. I step in and breathe deeply. there's a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I turn as the doors close, and the elevator drops into the earth like a great metal beast swallowing me whole. I count the seconds. 3...5...8...12...14. the contraption stops and the doors open with a sleek _shik_. His room is at the end of the brightly lit metallic hallway. there is one door halfway down the corridor, with a sign above it that says, "lavatory". I begin to walk toward his closed door, my careful steps echoing through the hall. I stop as I hear the elevator close behind me and begin to ascend. I suppose it leaves automatically to ensure he doesn't escape. I'm trapped. I proceed to walk forward, inching closer to his room. as I'm about to pass the bathroom, my heart begins to pound. I really don't want to be surprised if he's in there. But, not to worry. I walk by the door without incident.

I reach the end of the hallway and put my hands on his door. I pause, and rest my head on the cold steel that separates us. What occurred the first time I met him comes rushing back to me. I stand defenseless. I take three deep breaths, and turn the primitive doorknob. This time, he's sitting cross legged on the floor looking down at his fingers. He flexes them in different patterns, whispering an almost soothing chant to himself. If I didn't know better, I'd assume he was a monk of some sort performing a ritual. I open my mouth. No. Perhaps I shouldn't speak yet. I stand in front of him breathing through my nose with my hands behind my back.

_... lakka ku, uryú soko kay, yah, mai, izy lu lee, kyo, bakana ho, lokurachi ne, hachi me, dachi que, lo, soko suki dam, swam aru ne, sa. _

He finishes. The chant was oddly beautiful. My fear is forgotten. He looks up, and I dare to gaze at His eyes again. They glow hazel now; nothing irregular. But there's something behind them that awakens an animalistic instinct in me... it screams at me to run.

"You are here again." He says as if I wouldn't be aware without him telling me.

"You're correct." I say, spreading my hands. "here I am."

"Katniss." He says, looking at the floor. "Did the chant sooth you?" I answer sincerely.

"Yes. It was very beautiful." He stands up without reacting to my reply, and walks to his bed. It's a pathetic metal cot with nothing but a thin mattress and a comforter, and I feel a mild twinge of sympathy for him. I survey his room and realize that the colorless blanket lying on his bed may be the only possession he has in the world. He stares at the wall.

"You seem to have no desire to be inside this room with me." He says coldly.

"The thought at the forefront of your mind is to leave. Yet you are not as tense as last time. You aren't shivering as much, but you are acting a bit unnatural." His observation chills me to the bone. He can read me with disturbing accuracy. He turns around and stares at me blankly.

"What are your motives?" He asks me, staring into my soul. I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my forehead. I'm freezing up. Part of me is hurriedly formulating a defense against a potential attack, but another part of me already wants to cry and run away.

"What are your motives?" He asks again. _Find some more human in him._ Haymitch said.

before he can ask another time, I answer.

"I want to know your name." I say. He would've raised his eyebrows if he had any.

"My name." He stares past me and looks downward. He crosses his hands behind his back and shivers. With his raspy tones, he whispers my own.

"Katnisss." The word comes out of his mouth like there are nails scraping against his teeth. I think I liked it better when he called me "Kat".

"My name..." he furrows his brow and rubs his right temple.

"I haven't decided yet." He says with finality. I'm a bit taken aback by his answer. _He hasn't decided yet?_ what does that mean? I rephrase my question.

"Well, what do people call you?" He sits on his bed for a moment, thinking. I'm actually a bit intrigued now that I asked the question. He stands up, making me twitch nervously.

"I was initially called number four-sixteen." I was half expecting an answer like that. He's probably just a tool the capitol exercises its sick and twisted research upon.

"Is that a proper name, Katniss?" He asks bluntly. I think carefully. He doesn't seem to be interested in snapping me in two like last time, so I choose to answer honestly.

"I don't really think so..." I say slowly. He nods, staring past me. There is a placid, unforced silence.

"Your trachea is completely exposed to an open handed puncture." He says suddenly.

I don't respond to him. This meeting had just taken a very dark turn. I feel the bead of sweat running down my cheek again.

"if you leave yourself open like that inside the arena, I _will_ kill you." I nod, turn, and leave. That was enough human-searching for one day.

* * *

**Hey people. I hope I can continue this story at a faster pace soon. The next chapter is the last one that will concern the "Visits" between Katniss and the tribute, and then I plan to move on. On another note, I am looking for three Career SYOT's. I would like them before chapter 9 is up, or else I'll create them myself. review or message me if you are interested.  
**

**R&R, and thanks for reading! **


	3. Chapter 3

Haymitch sighs deeply. He reaches for a tiny glass of gin. Or maybe it's a large shot.I can never be sure with him.

He slouches into his chair and eyes me with a squint. Whenever I see that look, I can't decide whether I want to laugh at him or hit him in the face.

"I think I need to give you some trivia on your new friend." He says. I twitch as he says "friend". He bolts his drink down, and leans forward.

"As you can probably tell, this character is not entirely sane." He begins. "He's not _insane, _however. He is freakishly smart. He was designed that way." I frown. "Designed" seemed like an odd phrase to use. "An android...?" I ask stupidly. He laughs at my response. I can't say I blame him. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and continues.

"No." He says, smiling. "Genetic engineering. He's human, I assure you. But not really, I suppose. I don't know what his background is, but he was designed to kill. He was raised on a diet of human flesh." I raise my eyebrows at this remark. This seemed sort of extreme, but then again, this was the capitol. He must have noticed my skepticism.

"I mean that as a metaphor." He says quickly. "But you see my point. Anyhow, here's the reason he's being revealed." This I can already geuss.

"The capitol needs a tribute." I say. Haymitch grins.

"Correctomundo!" He slurs. He tries to set his glass down on the table, but misses and drops it on the ground. He proceeds speaking as if he meant to shatter the glass.

"But, there is no reaping here. These are the privileged folk. They just want something to root for. And after what you pulled last year? God. The capitol needs to flex its muscles." I really don't need to be reminded about my antics with Peeta last year.

"They were actually considering an event in which previous winners came back to the arena and fought again."

"Well, there are two winners back this year." I say bitterly. Haymitch nods, regarding last month's reaping fiasco. I volunteered for my sister who was miraculously chosen yet again, and Peeta volunteered because he wanted to keep up our charade.

"This isn't directly related to that." Haymitch says. "They wanted a symbolic show of superiority. This is why your friend is now allowed to come out." He leans towards me on his chair. I can smell the alcohol seeping from his pores, a smell I've grown accustomed to.

"Katniss. He is _the _tribute of the capitol. And because the capitol is the best, he will be the best. Let me tell you right now. He was let out so he could kill every last one of you." He lets the final words ooze off of his lips like blood, and then lets a silence hang in the air. I grip the edges of my chair tightly. I don't want to learn more about him. But I know that Haymitch is right. And I know that if I want to live, I need to educate myself. No rest for the wicked.

"You say you don't know his whole background." I begin. "He wasn't really designed to participate in these games, I would guess?" Haymitch nods.

"He could be an experiment gone wrong a few years ago. The capitol is very interested in biogenetic experimentation in humans. " he replies. "They obviously couldn't prepare a very reliable tribute in one year, so he must be the leftovers of another project that just happened to fit the criteria for the capitol tribute." He then sits silent, swirling an invisible drink in his hand. I think hard, wondering what I can do to somehow alter the course of events that the capitol has obviously tried to put in place for the games.

"I don't think they can completely control him." I think aloud. "He's unstable."

"Exactly." Haymitch says almost the moment I finish my sentence. "I don't really think he's the perfect killing machine they want him to be. There are pieces of him missing. And I want you to fill those empty spaces with pieces of yourself." I look down and nod. I think I'm finally starting to understand what haymitch's motives are.

"You're special, Katniss. There's a reason I'm not having Peeta do this." I wince. Haymitch stands up and stretches.

"And on that subject" he says through a long yawn. "That it's time for you and the capitol's little experiment to have another visit."

Damn it.

* * *

_Crash._ I hear the Sounds coming from behind his metal door.

_Crash. _I only take steps down the hallway in between the abrupt Noises.

_Crash. Bang. Clunk. _The door muffles the sounds very well. I press my ear to it, and wait for the noises to stop before I enter. One... Two... Three...

_Slam. _Too soon. I start the count again. One... Eighteen... Thirty-six... I wait for minutes. Silence prevails. it could still be dangerous. I could just walk back to the elevator and request to leave. But I don't. I put my hand on the doorknob. I turn it.

And there he is, shirt torn, hands dripping with blood, his irises are bright red, his mouth is open in an utterly insane smile, his sharp teeth covered in blood, there's a terrible sound coming out of his mouth, he lunges at me, I scream, I slam the door shut and I lock it.

I fall backwards onto to the hard concrete floor, panting. What in the name of hell had he done to himself? I can hardly think. My mind is a confused, terrified jumble. His mere presence had disabled me just as effectively as a dart to the neck. That roar that had emerged from his mouth was the most terrible thing I had ever heard in my life. It was like a monster's shriek run through a broken computer. I begin to collect myself, but then I hear a clang. I freeze, and I slowly look upward. There's a dent jutting out from his door.

Dear god. No. Another one a appears with a resounding crash. I scramble up, backing away. Another dent appears. I'm afraid to run, because I don't want to show him my back. I change my mind quickly when a fourth dent signals he's still giving it his all. I tear down the hallway, zooming past the bathroom. I press my thumb to the scanner to access the elevator as the clangs from his doorway, muffled by the distance, begin to crunch. Is the lock breaking?

Fourteen seconds is too long to wait. I quake and shiver, whimpering desperately under my breath. _come on, come on. _I can hear the crunching getting more pronounced with each blow. The elevator finally dings and slides open. I step into the elevator, but the moment I do, I hear his scream. I don't bother looking, I jump to the buttons and I start pressing "up" as quickly as I can. His scream is getting louder, he's coming fast, I curl into a ball in the corner of the lift, the door isn't closing fast enough, please help me-

The whole elevator shakes when he slams into the closed doors. I here a muffled, maniacal laugh coming from outside. It becomes steadily more insane as the elevator ascends. I'm frozen in the corner, I feel totally incapable of movement for a few seconds. Part of my mind is afraid that he's standing behind me. Tears well in my eyes, and I angrily wipe them away. I stand up, knees quivering slightly, and jut out my chest. The elevator door opens and I step out nonchalantly. I can still hear my "friends'" laughter coming up from below. I look to my feet and I see the skinny guard curled in a ball, crying. I know it's wrong, but seeing someone worse off makes me feel a bit better about myself.

* * *

"That was the worst I've ever seen him". I say to Haymitch.

"I know." He says. "He's got monitoring chips in his body. according to his caretakers, he got so bad that eight of them just stopped functioning for three hours." Haymitch stares at me like he's expecting me to say something. He looks to the side.

"But..." He begins. "His readings have returned to to normal as of late, so... maybe you can try again." I can't take this.

"Honestly?" I ask him. He curls his bottom lip and nods.

"I don't know what you want to accomplish with this. I can't leave an impression him. Not after what just happened. He wouldn't _respect _me enough to let me rub off on him. " He looks into his ever- present flask, swirling the liquid inside.

"Haymitch. Why are you doing this?" I ask. He waits for a moment to respond.

"I lied." he says. I wait for him to continue.

"What I really want you to do is to learn how to survive him." I wince. I forget that I have to be in the arena with him.

"District 12. You and Peeta, Katniss. you two are the only symbol for this... whatever the hell it is... uprising whatever. One- if not both you- has to survive. And Peeta is out of commission." I frown. I've been bitter with him lately, but I didn't know he was injured.

"what happened to him?" I ask. Haymitch sputters and almost laughs.

"honestly?" he looks at me quizzically. I don't like being left in the dark. I immediately inquire.

"well?" Haymitch's face goes blank.

"His parents died two weeks ago. There was a fire at his bakery." The news ties my stomach in a knot. I feel his loss painfully, as I remember my father. I want to suspect the Capitol. I want to blame someone. But it was most likely just a fire.

"And just between you and me" Haymitch mutters in my direction "If he was ever with the tribute, I'm not sure if he would _try _too hard to survive." I feel a twinge of sorrow for him.

"Katniss..." Haymitch says, looking at me again. "I'm going to ask that you go see the tribute again." I sigh, closing my eyes. walking down the hallway to his room is like waiting on the platform in the arena.

"And if you have some time, I think you should pay Peeta a visit."

* * *

The first thing I notice when I reach the end of the hallway is that there's a new door. There's a small keypad on the left side of it. I now realize why the new guard handed me that slip of paper. I punch in the four digits, and I brace myself. The door slides open. It's not as bad as I expected. He's sitting cross-legged on his bed, shirtless, his back to me.

"You smell nice today, Kat." He says. I grimace. I didn't know his sense of smell was so heightened.

"I appreciate it." I say. "How are you?"

" I am fine." He says to the wall. "You needn't look so tense. I have no intention of killing you today." If there's one quality that's pleasant about this boy, it's his honesty. If he says it, he means it. I relax slightly.

"The drums became quite pronounced earlier today." He says in gravelly tones. "Did you hear them as well?" He asks, turning around. I can't help but stare at his chest. Not because it's well sculpted, but because there are three gashes running across it which seem to be right in the middle of healing. Is that what he did to himself this morning? I glance at his sharp nails; they're as clean as can be. I see no weapons inside his room...

"Well?" He asks again. I snap out of my trance. Clearly when the drums are louder, this is what happens to him.

"I don't hear the drums." I say to him. "I've never heard them before." He cocks his head to one side, a very neutral expression on his face.

"You are a very interesting girl. Katniss." He punctuates the end of the sentence with my name. I don't really know what to say to this.

"You're an interesting boy." I say to him. He responds immediately.

"I prefer the term, 'unique'."

"Well then, my apologies." I say. he stands up. I now notice that he isn't incredibly tall to be so intimidating. He can only be about 5'9 or so, barely an inch taller than me. Gale would practically tower over him.

"It would be nice to be taller, at times." He says as though responding to my thoughts. His senses are uncanny, and somewhat disturbing.

"I certainly agree." I sigh, looking to the floor. In the corner, there's a bloody rag, probably the remnants of his shirt.

"When will you get another shirt?" I ask, not calculating the sensitivity of this question until it comes out of my mouth. Thankfully, he doesn't seem offended in any way.

"Every morning. There is a fresh change of clothes in the lavatory. I can use the room once a day." He says.

"Good." I say dumbly. Speaking of dumb, I need to talk with Peeta about this. We aren't allowed much time together without cameras glued to our faces. I decide to escort myself.

"I need to go." I say. "See you later."

"Good day." He nods curtly and sits down on his bed. This visit was the most civilized we've had.

* * *

**Hello there. This should be the last chapter involving one-on-one visits with the capitol tribute. I'll be moving on to focus on the tributes training, interviews, and then games themselves next. thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

"You do realize we sort of_ had_ to volunteer?" Peeta asks me. This is one of the few times I've been legitimately angry with him. Haymitch has already been reminding me of this night and day. The capitol had drawn Prim yet again. it was obviously a set up. they knew I had no choice. And Peeta, being the ever so heroic and devoted lover, had to save that pale-faced fifteen year old boy from the games and volunteer to protect his precious Katniss. But he really didn't have to. I wanted him to stay home. I wanted to do this alone. He played right into the Capitol's hands. I've been avoiding him for the past few weeks, successfully. but here he is.

"We?" I ask. "For _fuck's_ sake. did you honestly just say WE?"

"Yes, I did." he says. he reaches for my hand, trying to comfort me. I pull it back, feeling much too upset to play this "young lovers" game. But he thinks it's all too real.

"Katniss... we love each other. remember?" hinting at the capitol's expectations. "I couldn't just... not."

"Really? You just couldn't? Think! Think for one second! What the hell do you think would've panned out if you decided to keep your pasty little hand down during the reaping?" I almost yell.

"they would've thought-"

"No!" I smack the table, numb with rage. "They would've just thought it was over between us. 'oh, something went wrong between them at home', or 'oh, he found another girl', and they would've forgotten the whole damn thing!" I cry. He looks down at the table, twiddling his thumbs. He doesn't seem to want to respond. but I keep going.

"You let yourself be used! It's what the capitol wants! They want to prove 'Even love can be conquered by our might'!" He stops moving his fingers, still looking down into his lap. I need to sting him. he's ridiculous. pathetic.

"You. are. a god. damn. tool." I say to him, spitting the words out like bullets. "And now, you've signed your death warrant. So a tool is all you'll _ever_ be." I breathe out, and collapse backward into my chair. a bitter silence fills the room. He looks up at me. There are tears in his eyes. The sight of his face like that significantly cools me down. I feel remorseful rather than angry now. he stands, and the tears begin to fall down his cheeks. he turns to walk from my room. He knows he was wrong. but I didn't need to tell him. I really didn't. He's almost to the door; I stand up and run to him, I turn him around, I kiss him on the lips. after a couple seconds, he wraps his arms around me, and kisses back. I pull away and hold him at arms length, and he looks at me longingly. Then he pulls me into a tight hug, crying on my shoulder. I rub his back, feeling his sturdy frame. his shoulders are why I enjoy his embrace. His build makes me feel warm, and safe.

"My parents are dead." He says shakily.

"I know." I say. I wish I could say something more than that. But what _can_ I say to something so grave? We hold each other for a long time.

"Can you walk me to my room?" he whispers into my ear.

"of course." I respond. I can tell he doesn't want much more than that. "I'm sorry." I say into his ear.

"No." he says. "I was really my fault."

"Well, maybe a bit." I try to be light about it. "C'mon. you need some rest." He wipes away his tears and wraps his arm around my shoulder. I put mine around his waist, and we walk out of my quarters towards his. Thankfully none of my stupid entourage is there to bother us. we reach his room, and I lay him down on his bed. the hue of his room is very different from mine. it has a yellow tinge all around it, with vanilla covered bedsheets.

"can you stay here?" he asks quietly. "until I'm asleep?". I feel a wave of sorrow. The fire at the bakery shouldn't have happened. He has no mother, and in some ways, he never had one.

"Of course." I say, feeling sympathetic. I climb into bed on top of him. I initiate a kiss, and he kisses back. This is another one of those moments where I feel that I really do _feel_ something for him. I snake a hand underneath his shirt, feeling his soft chest tighten under my touch. he reaches up to massage my breast. We kiss and caress for several minutes, then he turns away.

"Thank you." He whispers. I want to tell him I love him. but will I later? can I tell the truth now, and then lie at every other moment?

"you're welcome." I say into his ear. I lie with him, thinking, letting my mind float away to better places. It is difficult to find "better places" when situations like this are present. But Hunting, swimming, playing with prim- it's never_ too_ difficult. I can feel Peeta's chest rise and fall slowly, and I know that he's asleep now. I rise from his bed to go to collapse into my own.

* * *

**Hey guys. man. I'm sort of proud of this chapter :) It was somewhat solemn, I know. I just felt we needed some Peeta, and some more of Katniss's life. There's just some stuff I want to cover before I get to the arena. thank you so much for the support, everyone! reviews are GREATLY appreciated.**


	5. Chapter 5

I wake up with a sick taste in my mouth. The interviews are today... The way that they structure them will be predictable.

"oh, Katniss, you're such a hero. saving your sister yet again. I can only imagine the pain your family is going through." and "Oh, Peeta. You are a very devoted lover. I'm amazed that you decided to take this risk. " I stretch and clamber from my bed. I strip down and toss on an outfit of all white, only to remember that Cinna probably crafted an outfit for me today. I really appreciate his skill. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, faintly smiling. I've always felt satisfied with the way I look. I don't understand why so many concern themselves with the constant makeup and jewelry and worrying. Especially here in the capitol. I leave my room to get on a transport to the event.

"Oh, come on. You can't just _get on._ you have to _carry _yourself." Effie squeaks in my ear. There are times when I really just want to hit her. But I calm myself with the fact that she really means well. The problem is that she simply has the inability to recognize the seriousness of my situation. She wasn't brought up in an environment where she couldn't develop a sense of empathy. I sigh, and hold myself upright as I board the train. The cameras flash behind me, the people giggle around me, and then the doors close. Effie quickly ushers me to the luxury car, grinning at the shocked citizens in the area who are in awe of seeing me up close.

"Come on now. Let's hurry!" she says. We bustle through the aisles until we reach our private car; it seems that Peeta and Haymitch have gotten on at an earlier stop. Peeta smiles weakly at me, and looks at the floor. I could put on a show for Effie and kiss him right now, but I really don't want to. Instead, I take a seat next to him, and say

"Hey sweetheart." I can almost feel Effie's smile. Capitol citizens love some good melodrama. Haymitch is looking surprisingly sober today.

"I have given Peeta an update on the situation with the Capitol's tribute. He met him a couple of hours ago." he says to me. I'm about to ask Peeta what he thought, but Effie jumps in too quickly.

"Isn't it amazing? the capitol finally getting its very own tribute? I've always thought we deserved to display ourselves at the games." Poor woman. She's so delusional. She can't absorb the fact that the districts don't view the games as an honor. It's what's fed to them.

"I do agree, it's about time." says Haymitch, attempting to pacify her outburst.

"what did you think of him, Peeta?" I asked my "lover" in serious tones. I'm curious to see how the tribute reacted to Peeta.

"He acted very neutral." Peeta started slowly. "He was very calculated. I can tell he's clever." All wise observations.

"Anything specific that struck you?" I ask.

"Not really." Peeta said. "I have to admit, he frightens me." I suppose that makes sense too.

"He asked me if I heard drums..." He finishes, trailing off. I suppose it's not just me, then. I wonder to myself what the deeper significance of the drums is. Haymitch clears his throat.

"I hope you're prepared for the interview. Am I correct that you two are still going strong?" I twitch.

"Yup." Peeta says into his hands. "As happy as can be."

I smile warmly at him, getting into character. My mind begins to wander, and the ride to the City's main circle is over quickly.

"Alright now, you two." Effie says, prepping her hair in a hand-held mirror. "Get ready. These crowds can be more dangerous than the arena." Peeta and I clasp hands. I whisper out of the corner of my mouth, "grin more" and the doors open. The flashing lights greet us with great enthusiasm, and we meet them with the same. Effie moves us along. We all giggle and wave stupidly at the cameras, playing to their hunger for drama. I see the empty faces behind the cameras, gleeful and ignorant. Professions aren't always necessary in the capitol, as all is catered to by the districts. The districts are starved for food. The capitol is starved for a purpose in life. We finally enter the main studio.

"Should we go on separately?" Peeta asks me when the crowd is locked out by two burly peacekeepers.

"I think that's a good Idea." I say.

"alright. you wait here. I want to meet with Cinna." Peeta kisses me on the cheek, and walks away. I scan the other tributes who've arrived. I think about their backgrounds, wondering who is a career, who was just chosen, who will die first. It kills me to think about. sometimes it's difficult to remember that I'm one of them. It only becomes real when you're standing on the platform, waiting to be thrown into the fray.

"I always wonder what the simplest way to kill them would be." I take in a sharp breath, grabbing my chest in shock. The capitol's Tribute runs his fingers through my hair from behind me; I feel him take a breath.

"You always smell very sweet. Katniss." he rasps. His voice is incredibly unsettling. But his breath is minty, and his scent is pleasant. If he was anyone else, I would find him very attractive.

"The boy you were with. Is he from district twelve?" I answer with my back to him, not wanting to know if his eyes are red.

"Yes. I heard you met with him."

"Mm. yes. I did." He confirms. "You smell alike, you see. you carry yourselves in a similar manner. This is why I assumed you came from the same district." He backs away from me. I dare to turn around and look at his eyes. To my relief, hazel orbs gaze back at me.

"Do you have a reason you wanted to talk to me?" I ask him. I always need to push conversation forward a little when I speak with him. He cocks his head to one side.

"Did you ever have a reason to visit me?" He shoots back. He does have a point. He continues speaking.

"I simply wanted to make conversation." he says, looking at me blankly. "I do have something interesting I want to speak with you about."

"do tell" I say, intrigued.

"President Snow met with me." Mr. roses and blood. "He said I was to... represent the capitol. To follow every order his staff gave to me." his looks past me. I notice his right ear twitch behind his hair. I never noticed their slight sharpness.

"And so I said to him, 'How am I supposed to represent the capitol, and still follow orders?'" he grins slightly.

"'for the capitol does not take orders. It merely _takes_. and to take_ orders_ is to be just another district' I said. and you know something?" His grin widens. I am actually very interested in this story.

"He was scared. He was very scared. he hides behind that beard, and he hides behind his ruthlessness, but he is afraid. Because he knows that he does not _truly_ know what ruthless is." He finishes, and his grin disappears. I'm slightly excited, and terrified at the same time. To see President Snow vulnerable is a privilege. I should share this with Haymitch.

"The capitol wants me to save you for last." My ears perk up as he begins to speak again.

"to kill you, I mean."

I tense up. His words hit me harder than any physical threat.

"For show, I suppose." He cocks his head again.

"Is there any particular way you would like me to do it? I can make it quite simple, if you'd like." I'm already feeling terrified. It doesn't matter how many people are around to help me. I know that he's not just self confident. He's smart, and he has the capacity to do what he wants. He can kill whenever he feels like it. I feel helpless.

"I've disturbed you." He says, looking away from me. "This was not my intent. I trust I will see you before the arena." He turns, and walks away. out of the corner of my eye, I see the two peacekeepers at the door pocket two menacing-looking weapons.

* * *

"The plumage will burst out. all you have to do is twirl." Cinna assures me.

"Oh, and try not to breath in for about ten seconds. the adhesive powder is a bit volatile, so there may be a puff of smoke after the wings appear." I smile at myself in the mirror. I've never felt bad about my figure, but Cinna can make me feel truly beautiful.

"You're doing a good thing, Cinna." I say to him. "thank you so much." He smiles at me in the glass.

"Anything for the people." he says. I don't know how Snow will react to this. This is a metaphorical blow to the face of the Capitol. I just hope Cinna knows the risk he's taking. He's been one of my greatest friends.

"What do you plan to do in the arena? I'm no expert on combat, but I think you have good shot." I sigh.

"I'll stay in trees, and try not to kill anyone." He grins weakly. I wish we could sit down around a table at some time, and have a pleasant conversation. no arena, no revolution. Just friends. I give him a long hug. "Go dazzle them, lover girl." he says.

"Goodbye." I whisper to him. I walk out of his room and proceed down a flight of stairs to the back area of the theater. I hear Caesar being introduced. Time for the Mockingjay's flight.

* * *

**I'll** **try to do some longer chapters from here on in. I feel like I'm more comfortable with the motion of the plot as of late. Reviews are greatly appreciated, and favorites make me cry tears of joy! thanks for any support given. I'll see you around.**


	6. Chapter 6

The loud, upbeat music irritates me as I step onto the stage, but I don't let it show. I smile and wave to the audience. I hustle over to caesar, and the vile man kisses me on the cheek. the spot where his lips touch tingles unpleasantly. I take my seat, and the audience roars with excitement.

"Katniss Everdeen! he says, greeting me like an old friend. "how have you been since we've last met?"

"Fine." I say, crossing my legs. "Life has been pretty spectacular." Caesar smiles. I sometimes wish they had chosen a better actor to be MC.

"Then I can imagine this came as a rather unexpected surprise." The audience laughs. I giggle and and say,

"gracious me, yes." I try to add a small layer of the Capitol accent onto my voice. "It seemed like such an unlikely coincidence when she was called up. my sister, I mean" I raise an eyebrow. Caesar proceeds without missing a beat.

"Katniss, I find it amazing how eager you are to take such a risk yet again for your family. It brings great pride to district twelve."

"Oh, thank you." I say.

"And the way Peeta almost immediately volunteered" he puts a hand on his chest. "oh, my heart skipped a beat when I saw." I let faint mask of sorrow descend onto my smile. hopefully some of the audience will detect this.

"He's so devoted, Caesar." I say dreamily, more to the cameras then to him. "I was very happy when he volunteered. It showed that he loved me." it was unbelievably cheesy, but the audience ate it up. they cheered and aah-ed. Caesar smiled warmly.

"On the subject of Peeta" he asks, eyes inquisitive. "how has your relationship progressed?" I light up at the prospect of discussing my star-crossed lover.

"swimmingly." I say. " I won't go into too much detail" I go in for the kill. "but he is a very _passionate _lover." I give a naughty smirk at the end. The audience explodes in a chorus of ooohs and wild cheering. I certainly hit a sweet spot. Caesar laughs and smiles suggestively.

"Well, Katniss. We don't want to delve too deep into that." I wager that the bubbly capitol citizens would like nothing more than to delve into "that", but we continue with the standard formalities.

"On a more serious note." Caesar begins. the cheering dies down. "The rules of the Games have been reviewed this year. and we are to understand a double victory is not to be allowed again." I nod slowly, looking down into my lap.

"What do you plan to do, Katniss?" Cinna prepared me for a situation like this. A small pocket on the left hip of my dress contains a slightly irritating powder that will cause me to shed a tear in case of a dramatic event. A silly precaution in any other setting, but Cinna is an intelligent man. I reach in quickly, and rub my eyes, still looking downward. it itches, but doesn't really hurt. only a couple of tears are necessary.

"Katniss?" Caesar asks. I cross my hands in my lap and look up, tears falling down my cheeks.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." I say shakily. The audience aaaaws, and some of them may feel legitimately sympathetic. Caesar dons a comforting smile.

"I can't imagine what you're going through, Katniss." that's right. he can't. He waits for the crowd to die down, and then changes the subject to one which has been itching at the back of my skull.

"Katniss, I believe you've met the capitol tribute?" The crowd explodes into applause. their mentality at times dumbfounds me.

"Yes, I have." I respond in interested tones. Caesar jumps to the next question giddily.

"Well? tell us what you think. And what do you think of the capitol having a tribute in general?"

"The first time I met him... I thought he was strong." I twitch. _He's holding me up by the throat. he's choking me to death. I'm pleading. He's not human._

"He looks like a formidable opponent. He's intimidating." I finish. Caesar nods.

"and what about the _morality _of the capitol having a tribute?" I can't answer this without going over the edge. the audacity... I just decide to say something else.

"I'm curious as to why there's only one tribute, while the rest of the districts have two." Caesar shrugs.

"Yes, we'd like to have two. but, this is a first timer."

"that's true." I agree, smiling.

"So, Katniss." Caesar begins. "About your dress. I think it may be difficult to top last year's outfit."

I see the screen behind us change colors, and it flashes to a still of me twirling with my fiery dress. I'm a bit nervous about revealing the one I'm currently wearing... is it too big of a risk?

"You know something?" I say. "I think I can do just that." The audience lets out an "Oooh" at this brave statement. This is my moment of truth.  
I stand up and walk to the center of the stage. I begin to twirl slowly, so the audience can associate this change with the one that occurred last year. they begin to cheer as they recognize the motion. I twirl faster, and with an airy puff, a beautiful structure emerges from my already spectacular dress in a flash of silvery smoke. I remember to hold my breath, but Caesar received no such warning from Cinna. I can hear him coughing behind me as I face the audience, and as the smoke clears, the crowd begins to roar. I smile brightly, and look back to see Caesar seated in his chair, a look of amazement on his face. He stands, and rushes over to shake my hand. He faces the crowd with me, and raises my arm.

"Katniss Everdeen, Ladies and Gentlemen!" he cries. I smile widely at the audience, waving with my free hand. Loud music begins to play again, and I curtsy. I thank caesar, and walk off the stage.

* * *

I stare at my hands. sitting. A couple of the less intimidating tributes say hello. "number four-sixteen" is nowhere in sight. Peeta went directly after me. Nothing occurred that was out of the ordinary. I am a bit worried for Cinna. Our act with the dress was a metaphorical slap in the face to the capitol. I gaze up at the live feed television above me. A tribute from district four is being introduced. She wears a jet black dress that shimmers in the lights of the stage. She's short, but looks very mature for her size, and her pretty Asian features compliment her presence. I read her name across the bottom of the screen.

_Siri Karahu- 17- District 4._

"Siri" Caesar begins. "I _love _your dress." She smiles glamorously. "Thank you. I have to say, I like it too." a small ripple of laughter waves through the audience. She's a charmer, and I can already tell that she's very intelligent. I'll have to watch out for her.

"So, district 4 is awfully close to the sea. what do you think of the capitol's environment?" Caesar asks. Siri nods. "I definitely enjoy it." she says. "You in the capitol lead luxurious lives..." there is a slight applause. "It's interesting to think that most of the fish I catch end up here. I was looking at my dinner last night, and I wondered, 'maybe my boyfriend caught this'." The crowd swoons at the word "boyfriend". But I catch something. What she said was slightly jabbing the capitol's intake of resources. It was moderately... rebellious. Caesar raises his eyebrows and decides to delve deeper.

"Aaah. Well, we're a bit curious now! tell us about him." Siri's smile remains constant, but her next statement contradicts her expression.

"oh, I'm not seeing him anymore. He had brown hair. Average height. he wasn't really the best person. died in a storm a few months ago." and audible "aaaw" seeps from the crowd. Caesar coos.

"I'm sorry to hear that." he says. he proceeds quickly, for some reason I can tell he doesn't want to stay on this subject.

"So I understand that you volunteered for these games." My ears perk up. "As did _three _other tributes." Peeta, myself... who was the third?

"Can you tell us your motives?" Caesar asks her.

"I saw a girl about eighteen years old get called up." her smile fades, and she looks at her feet. "She was tall. she comes from one of the wealthier families in my neighborhood, so she had a good education." she pauses. "And I knew she would kill people." she says. Caesar nods, looking interested.

"I didn't want to see that. Because killing, directly or indirectly, is wrong. so, that's why I volunteered. I refuse to kill anyone." Murmurs mill through the room. I sit in shock. I was never brave enough to say something like that on the stage. but also, I would have to go back on my word. I've killed. Cato. Rue's killer. Glimmer. I prefer to pretend that I didn't.

"You may not get very far with that attitude." Caesar says, chuckling.

"That's not my intent" says Siri. Caesar frowns playfully, but I can tell he's getting nervous. there's not very much he can do with this girl's personality.  
"What about your family? He says, looking into her eyes.

"Caesar." Siri frowns at him. There's a layer of velvet she adds onto her voice that makes her sound very intimidating. "My family is the least of your concern. you just want a show. But these games are not just a show. They're cruel. They're despicable. And most importantly, they're how you keep your life support, the districts, from awakening and cutting you to pieces." I can tell that this has gone over half the audiences heads. I'm afraid peacekeepers will pull her from the stage, but that would be too unprofessional. and she _keeps going_. "I assume you're high enough in the elites to grasp this. You see, I would love to expand on why I believe killing is wrong." Caesar is no longer in control of this interview. She crosses her legs, and leans back in her chair.

"Killing is wrong because there are only two kinds of people. There are those who are innocent, or ignorant, those who have done nothing to deserve it..." she looks at her fingernails; I can see Caesar muttering into his collar. "And then there are those who simply aren't worth the effort." she drums her fingers on the side of her chair. her eyes bore into him, as if asking him _"so which type of person are you?"_ I want to applaud. Caesar finally speaks again.

"Siri. you have certainly stricken us. thank you for your time." Caesar nods, and the music begins playing again. He reaches out to shake her hand, to save some face. He knows the interview was too short. Siri stands, places her hand atop of his forearm, and pushes it down, rejecting him. She walks off the stage.

* * *

"Did you see her?" Peeta says to me.

"of course." I say. "She shocked me. Did you meet her coming offstage afterwards?"

"Yes, actually." He says. I breathe in a sigh of relief. I'm glad she wasn't taken by the authorities.

"She seemed a bit depressed. But I think I may have a crush on her, Katniss." I giggle into my hands.

"Just promise not to cheat on me." I say sarcastically. "You know how much I care." He laughs halfheartedly, but his face falls. I didn't mean to do that. He takes our "relationship" a bit more seriously than I do...

We look at the television in Peeta's dressing room for the final interview. My heart skips a beat. Finally. He seems to have a name. Words appear at the bottom of the screen to signal the identity of the tribute. Ts_ute Arrow- 16- Capitol. _

He steps onto the stage, and the crowd loses its mind. I notice him twitch, and I hope that he doesn't lose his. His outfit is a metallic body suit, and shows off his powerful physique, but it's not as stunning or as intricate as I expected it to be.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! I give you the first ever Capitol tribute, Tsute Arrow!" Ts_ute Arrow... _I immediately decide the name doesn't suit him. It's too mild. The Capitol's propaganda only suits the residents. "Tsute" takes his seat.

"You may stop applauding." He says into his hand. The crowd giggles and dies down. Caesar seems very excited, and I can tell he's no longer forcing his character. Whoever decided that a capitol tribute was to be created was a genius. The people are literally transfixed.

"Tsute, we are ecstatic. Never before have we had fair representation in the games." The tribute's gaze remains very neutral. Right now he's at his calmest.

"Are you implying that we now do? I do not posses a female counterpart." Says the tribute. Had he used a smaller vocabulary, he probably would have received more applause from the audience.

"Yes." Caesar says."I think there should be another tribute to represent the proud females of the capitol." Que a cheer from the women. Caesar grins widely, and asks another question.

"Tell us how you got to this position, Tsute. You're quite an exceptional boy."

"I prefer the term, 'Unique'." Tsute shoots back. The crowd laughs, but I can catch Caesar's smile shrink a couple a molars. The tribute's presence is beginning to frighten him. There are few things more terrifying than being in a one on one situation with this boy. I know, and I would assume Peeta has at least a limited understanding.

"I came..." Begins Tsute, pausing after the first two words. "From a good family. My home is in the green region of the capitol." I hear a limited cheer rise from the audience. I would assume they are from that part of the capitol as well.

"I would often take walks into the wilds in the mountains, with my father and my sisters. I learned to fight there." He says.

"How so?" Caesar asks.

"I fought animals. Bears, and other creatures." Thunderous applause breaks out. _Fighting bears._ This interview was staged to present an ideal back story for the tribute. I'm perplexed at why he's going along with it so easily. Caesar doesn't speak. He probably isn't supposed to yet.

"The wilds prepared me for what has come to be."

"So, I take it you've never fought a human before, coming from a good family. How does fighting animals prepare you for fighting other people?" I think Caesar decided to improvise here.

"People tend to think they are special. But In reality..." he pauses, and twitches. "We are all bags of meat. a deer has arteries, that when severed, can cause it to bleed out in minutes. Bears posses skulls that when pierced, they die. And humans have them too. killing, Caesar..." I see his Irises redden. I grip the arms of my chair, about to stand. But I can't do anything but watch.

"I could reach out, and just..." he reaches out with his right hand, looking down at his feet. There is a tortured, mad look in his eyes. I can see Caesar tensing up. He's scared.

"tear out your heart..." he clicks his sharp, predator like nails together.

"And then, you would be no more than a dead bear or hare or squirrel or deer... a corpse is a corpse." He looks up. somehow, the crazed strain is suddenly gone from his face, and only a neutral expression remains. Caesar gulps and regains his composure as some of the audience applauds at the tributes' brutality.

"Well." he says. "We understand that you volunteered."

"This is correct." "Tsute" replies. "I believed that I was strong enough to represent us. When my mother told me that the game makers were searching for a tribute, I had her take me to the authorities to 'try out' so to speak." Caesar nods.

"And your parents is here tonight, I take it." The audience breaks into wild applause as two brightly clad people stand up from their seats, waving wildly at their beloved son. Even though these are the only actions they perform, I can tell that they both are better actors than Caesar. They persist in their act even though "Tsute" refuses to acknowledge them.

"Indeed. They are." he says, unconcerned. Caesar presses forward.

"They must love you very much, Tsute. To have so much confidence that you will come back home."

"I will win, Caesar. The odds are in my favor." Caesar throws his head back and laughs, and the crowd roars at his reference to the motto of the games. What they fail to understand is that he's being deadly serious. Everything is going his way.

"They most certainly are, Tsute." Says Caesar. "May you bring us our first of many victories." The crowd cheers. Tsute clenches his fists and stands with Caesar. something's wrong. He's looking like he's trying to restrain himself from doing something... Like he's trying to restrain something inside of him from coming out. I see Caesar hesitate to grasp the tribute's hand to raise it. He decides not to. "Tsute" bows to the audience, body tense, and strides from the stage. The music plays loudly, and the lights flash. The camera zooms to him walking away, and I can see blood dripping from where his sharp nails punctured his palms. He was very close to exploding. The Capitol is playing with fire.

* * *

**Aaah. finally. I must say, I'm quite satisfied with the way this chapter turned out. I will delve into training in the next chapters, and the games are coming! Reviews are very appreciated, and if you've gotten this far, I would be honored if you kept going. thanks, everyone.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: this is a re-upload. I wanted to restructure this chapter to some degree.**

**please enjoy!**

* * *

"Again. Are you _absolutely _sure?" his persistence is irritating me.

"Yes! I'm sure! beyond doubt!" I assure him. Haymitch grunts and puts his hands in his pockets. He puffs out his cheeks, and lets out a sigh.

"Ok." he says. He immediately turns on his heel, and walks away. I sling my arrows over my shoulder, and grip my longbow tightly. I'm not expecting a score as high as last year's, and neither do I want one. I walk into the hall.

"Katniss Everdeen, District twelve." I say to the small audience collected in the spectator's box. As if they don't know. Unlike last year, they seem very attentive.

Five targets are randomly arranged around the area, as I requested. I take a small timer off of my hip, and walk over to place it on the wall parallel to the spectators. I set it for thirty seconds, push the ten-second delay button, and I walk back, positioning myself. I breathe in, and out, notching my first arrow. The beep signals me to begin. I let the arrow fly, not pausing to look if I hit the first one or not. while drawing my second from the quiver, I hear a dull thud, signaling that I was successful. I aim briefly, and let my fingers relax. I draw my third arrow. _thud. _I let it loose. I draw my fourth. _thud. _I let it fly. I draw my fifth arrow. _clatter. _I don't think the last one was successful, but I don't look back, I'm busy notching my final arrow. I watch, this time. It sails through the air, and strikes true. An idea pops into my head as my eyes catch the timer ticking down from five seconds. I take the opportunity to put on a show. I draw a spare arrow, I aim briefly, and it wedges itself into the casing of the timer with a satisfying array of sparks.

I receive a small round of applause from the gamemakers. I scan the room. As it turns out, I actually _did_ strike all the targets. Satisfied, I bow and turn to leave. my heart leaps to my throat when the door to the hall opens. "Tsute" stands there, his hands bound behind his back. Two peacekeepers with heavy-looking guns flank him. A metal mask is bound across his mouth, and his standard-issue white shirt has a noticeable bloodstain on the chest. I clench my teeth and move to the side, allowing the trio to pass. there's a frightening power radiating off him. every muscle in his body is flexed, and there's a paralyzing glower on his face. I wonder why he has to display himself to the gamemakers. He's practically in their pocket.

I walk out of the hall hastily, not wanting to look back. I slow my pace after a few seconds, my body deciding that whatever had threatened it had passed. Turning the corner, I expect to see Haymitch. I'm surprised to see Siri, the girl from district 4, sitting on a bench a few meters away from me. She's staring at a tablet in her hands.

"Siri, isn't it?" I ask, walking towards her. She looks up at me and smiles.

"In the flesh." she says, smiling. "I'm up next. I've been looking forward to meeting you!" she says. I take a seat next to her. I can't help but gush a little bit. Her speech made an impression on anyone who heard it.

"I think you're really amazing. I've never seen anyone be so _real _in an interview. The rest of us are actors, but you just went to the stage and told the truth." I finish, blushing a bit. Perhaps this is how capitol citizens feel around me. Siri purses her lips, and pales. that was definitely not the correct note to start on. regardless, she responds.

"I was sick of putting in the effort." she says slowly, addressing the floor rather than me. "I just couldn't find a reason to act enthralled and honored." she shakes her head.

"It's just disgusting." I nod. meeting her isn't the experience I expected it to be. But I'm glad I am. I wait a few seconds.

"I know how you feel." I say. she smiles, not showing her teeth.

"I'm sure you do." she says. We sit in silence, allowing ourselves to ease into a comfortable mental proximity.

"I think you're pretty amazing, too." she says to me. I smile.

"I try." she looks back down to her tablet.

"I think that arrow trick was pretty neat, too." she smirks. I raise my eyebrows.

"That was aired? publicly?" I thought only the gamemakers could view the private sessions. She shakes her head quickly.

"No. I just have a live feed. my mentor gave it to me. Don't ask me how he did it, I don't know either." Alarmed, but intrigued, I take a look. A very well-rendered panorama displays the hall in high definition. I see that the setup of the room has been changed to suit the needs of the capitol's tribute. About ten human dummies stand to the right of the tribute. One of the peacekeepers shuffles over and fastens a knife and a sheathe to "Tsute's" side. his eyes are still bursting with rage and insanity. Siri shivers next to me.

"I don't know why he's so unsettling. he just is." she mutters to herself.

The peacekeeper gingerly unbinds the mask, and the strain immediately leaves his face. He sighs, and cracks his neck. Looking a bit nervous, the peacekeeper unlocks the heavy restraint, and shuffles back to his counterpart quickly. the cuffs fall to the ground with a clank, audible through the tiny speakers. There is no view of the gamemakers, but their silence suggests they're excited.

"Tsute Arrow." he says in raspy tones , rotating his shoulders. "Capitol". We hear a smattering of applause from the booth. _Hooray. That's us._ He walks calmly toward the first of the dummies, farthest from the camera. He draws his knife, swipes poetically, and sheathes it, walking to the next in line. The dummy's head falls from its shoulders, fake blood bubbling from the neck.

"He certainly has style. " I mumble to Siri. she nods. He puts both his hands on the next dummy's temples, and breathes in. With movements I can barely follow, He kicks it in the ribs with a crunch, strikes its neck, breaks its right leg, and then locks its arm in a complicated looked hold. he leans forward, and I can hear a crack and a tear. With a flourish, he rips the dummy's arm from its shoulder, and using it as a club, knocks the body to the ground. The fake blood adds to the enjoyment of the gamemakers. I can hear them hollering and clapping. I sit in shock, and Siri winces.

"I hope those are weaker than human bodies." I hear her say. The tribute walks to the next dummy, and draws his knife again. He unceremoniously drives it into the stomach of the figure, and rams his entire hand into its abdomen. He pauses. He pulls his hand from the wound, rubbery entrails coming out with his knife. He stares at the weapon for a moment, then turns, and throws into the chest of the nearest peacekeeper. His gun spins out of reach as he falls backwards.

Both Siri and I stare at the screen, not entirely absorbing what we are seeing. The peacekeeper's scream cuts through the speakers, and through it I can hear the cries of shock of the gamemakers. The second peacekeeper curses, and fires his weapon at the tribute, but "Tsute" heaves a dummy at him, knocking him to the ground. In a flash, he is on top of him. The peacekeeper's cries harmonize with those of his counterpart, as the tribute begins to play surgeon. I can barely believe what I'm seeing. the blood is real now. it's literally flying. With his bare hands, the tribute tears the right arm off the man, and beats him with his severed limb until his head is no longer recognizable. It's over in seven seconds. The method of execution is so brutal, so unconventional, and so terrible it's surreal. Siri puts a hand to her mouth, a look of shock in her eyes at seeing the maneuver with the dummy reenacted. The peacekeeper is no more. only a corpse.

Tsute walks over to his groaning, gasping second victim. Cries of disbelief and bewilderment pour from the spectator's booth, but he seems to care little. He kneels down on top of the peacekeeper, and cocks his head. The man screams again as Tsute tears the knife out of his chest. he cocks his head to one side, eyeing his prey. I'm paralyzed. My shoulders are tensed up, my eyes are glued to the screen. _this is happening right now._

"Oh my god." Siri whispers. Then the tribute Roars. I jump, I close my eyes, and put my hands to my ears, begging for it to go away. I can hear Siri scream in terror, and drop the tablet. the noise stops. I look at the cracked screen on the ground. Siri is contorted into a terrified pose, breathing hard. the Knife is buried in the peacekeeper's face. the entire group of gamemakers falls silent as Tsute stands up.

He nods to the booth, and walks from the hall, not bothering to retrieve his knife.

We sit in shock. Siri slowly picks the device up from the floor and turns it off, letting out a long breath.

I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. Tsute has exited the hall, and is coming in our direction. Could he still be in that state of madness? Should we run? No. He wouldn't attack us. The capitol undoubtedly wouldn't want us killed. Yet. Siri is hyperventilating beside me, a panic in her eyes.

"We're going to be fine" I comfort her. "Just sit perfectly still." She doesn't need to be told, she's already a statue. I can hear the light sound of his feet tapping against the cement. I cross my legs, attempting to look uninterested. I try not to imagine what is flitting through his head as he walks toward us. with his heightened senses, can he hear us? _smell_ us? He walks around the corner, just a few meters away from us- his hands are soaked with fresh blood, and the red stain on his shirt is now only a droplet in a rainstorm. His white garments emphasize the magnitude of the splatters. The tribute doesn't pause, and walks past us as if we're not even there. He turns the corner, out of sight.

Siri vomits on the ground. I jump to aid her, and she falls limp, breathing hard. Almost sobbing, she gasps out,

"I'm sorry."she sputters "I'm hemophobic."

"it's ok." I say to her. I've seen worse... things like vomit tend not to bother me anymore.

I pat her back as she coughs. Doesn't seem like anything else is coming out. The sight of "Tsute" walking by in such a state made me accept what I had seen on the tablet was a reality. I feel some pity for Siri. Tsute's horrifying display would traumatize anybody with a natural fear of blood. Though wasn't it all too convenient that he was assigned to have a session with the game makers _right before her_? and that an event that normally was kept under wrap just happened to be leaked onto Siri's tablet?

Perhaps somebody _wanted_ her to see that.

* * *

**Thought we needed some actual killing in there. here's a display of the tribute's real ability. Sorry for the late update, I wasn't getting many reviews so I assumed that I could put off this chapter for a bit without anyone getting feisty. :) R&R! ****thank you so much for reading! see you around.**


	8. Chapter 8

Peeta and I sit on the bed, staring at the elegant television mounted on the wall. Haymitch and Effie sit in chairs on opposite sides of my room, eyes fixed to the screen. The scores earned at the tributes' private sessions have begun to air. After the relatively high scores of districts 1 and 2, now comes the more interesting segment. A thin looking girl fades onto the screen, and her score flashes next to her.

_District 3, Paris Juniper: 7_

Next, her partner.

_District 3, Ephitus Longhorn: 5 _

The scores of 3 are average, when compared to their usual tributes. I'm quite interested in the scores of the next district. Siri's standings concern me, especially after what occurred before her private session. District 4's male appears first. His straw-like black hair and brown skin intensifies his chiseled facial features, and he stares at the camera confidently.

_District 4, Apu Lamakatra: 10_

I'm impressed. That's a score worthy of a career. The scene fades, and a picture of Siri slides into view.

_District 4, Siri Karahu: 2 _

My heart sinks. I didn't even see a score that low last year. I don't know what happened during her session, but I'm sure her performance was affected by what she saw in the moments leading up to it. The capitol is obviously trying to break her down; to make sure her stand at the interviews remains an isolated incident. Such a low score will make her prey for others during the bloodbath, and the thought of the capitol's tribute will probably reduce her to shambles after what she's seen of him. But, for the capitol to launch such an assault on a person's mental stability must mean that she's a threat. I hope she can hold onto that power.

Siri's face fades off of the screen, and Peeta seems to lose interest in the scores. Haymitch strokes his beard.

"There is a social being held tonight for any gamemakers and tributes that wish to attend and mingle." Effie pipes up. "I thought that it would be a good idea to go socialize and decompress before training tomorrow. Oh, and Katniss, don't worry. the event is closed to the press." With no cameras present, I may be more comfortable attending. I smile at her.

"I don't see why not." Effie shimmies in her chair with glee.

"Splendid! Peeta?" He's busy staring out the window. The city flashes and glimmers in the glass. his eyes are glazed over, and his expression is blank. What is he feeling? Is he sad? Is he in deep contemplation?

"Peeta?" Effie asks, craning her neck in his direction. He flounders out of his trance.

"Alright." He says. Effie lifts herself from her chair.

"Wonderful. Come! let's get you two ready."

"Wait." Haymitch speaks up for the first time today. He tilts in his chair, utterly inebriated. he gestures towards the screen.

"Your scores." he slurs. The screen is displaying the male of district ten.

_Xader Eclipse: 6 _

District 11 begins its presentation. First comes the female, pale and blonde.

_Jane Millet: 4  
_

_Jodo Soothsayer: 5_

Finally, twelve. I hold my breath. Peeta's face flashes onto the screen.

_Peeta Mellark: 7 _

He cracks a halfhearted smile.

"An improvement, I have to say." I rub his shoulder warmly, a girl proud to see her lover better himself. Peeta's score drifts off the screen. I see my face flash into view.

_Katniss Everdeen: 9_

I'm satisfied. While not as high as last year's, it's very good. Perhaps it's better to have a lower score. As a victor, I already have a high profile. I am about to motion to Effie to begin prepping for the event, but I stop to stare as the words "Capitol" flash across the screen. A picture of "Tsute Arrow" glares at me, past my eyes and into my soul.

_Capitol, Tsute Arrow: 11 _

He took my score. Effie shuts off the screen with a flourish.

"Congratulations to both of you!" she says, bundling together her various accessories. "Higher than average scores!" Why had the capitol not just given him a twelve? Would that seem too obvious? What would this mean for the games? Maybe it's symbolic. He took my score. And soon he'll take my life.

"Katniss! Peeta!" Effie's voice cuts through my thoughts shrilly. She shakes her head. "You really do need to let yourselves go. you seem very strung out." Peeta hops off of the bed, and plods to the door after Effie. I follow, feeling slightly distracted. Haymitch doesn't move. stone drunk. I hope he doesn't leave any sort of mess in my dormitory.

Peeta and I quickly fall behind Effie.

"How did you boost your score?" I ask him. He shrugs.

"I learned how to fight with a staff." He says. "And I threw around heavier stuff this year." I nod. My mind begins to float back to the horrific scene I witnessed with Siri. should I tell him more about the tribute? Does he need to know?

"How about you?" he asks me. "Pardon?"

"You know. what did you do for your session?"

"Oh, some more tricks with arrows. less aggressive than last time." He nods, and begins to speak hurriedly.

"There's something I should tell you about."

"Go ahead."

"Haymitch has been discussing some things with me." He's being a bit vague.

"Such as?" He breathes in, and shakes his head.

"Stop walking for a moment." He says.

"Apparently... there is something going on in eastern Panem." Still pretty vague.

"Expand." I demand.

"When I say 'something going on', I mean rebellion." Butterflies flap in my chest.

"Full fledged conflict is really only going on in some small pockets in district 10 and 4." He says quickly. "But apparently, twelve is getting close to some serious danger."  
The last statement fails to surprise me. this rebellion was provoked by my actions... no, _our _actions. Of course our district will be a primary target.

"What I'm getting at is, maybe we could do something like what Siri did." open statements against the capitol? "but in the arena." I immediately think of what dangers could befall prim and my mother. Speaking out could earn them quick and severe punishment.

"I'm not sure if I can." I say. He frowns.

"I was a bit shocked that we didn't consider this earlier. Why are you against it now that we actually have an opportunity to do more than last time?"

"Peeta... I have something to lose" Wrong choice of words. He twitches as if I struck him. collecting himself, his features often.

"Maybe we can talk later."

* * *

I am confident that given a pile of wool, some scissors, and some plastic flowers, Cinna could make a dress for me of better quality than this one in less than five minutes. My outfit hugs my frame uncomfortably in places where tension isn't needed. my makeup feels as though a cloth is pressed to my face, and my shoes throw me off balance. and yet, the compliments keep on flowing left and right, gushing into my ears like so many waterfalls. How radiant I look, how this dress practically earned me sponsor or two- I couldn't possibly care less. I fail to observe the happenings around me. Peeta and I participate in a soulless dance, grinning into each others empty eyes, drinking in each others nothingness until we're starved. I wish for the night to end. it's not granted soon enough.

**Sorry for the delayed update. I've had stuff going on. training shall commence in the next chapter!**


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